


Mature Adults Conversing

by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)



Series: дезинформация [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Feels, Insecurity, Kissing, M/M, Not Iron Man 3 Compliant, Pepper Would Be Proud, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-16
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 10:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2147880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaqen_hgar/pseuds/Finely%20Honed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were times when Bucky found himself convinced he’d ruined, or irrevocably derailed, something important by coming back into Steve’s life the way he did. It was a strange feeling, inconsistent and difficult to pin down, bubbling to the surface on occasion only to fade away and be forgotten again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mature Adults Conversing

There were times when Bucky found himself convinced he’d ruined, or irrevocably derailed, something important by coming back into Steve’s life the way he did. It was a strange feeling, inconsistent and difficult to pin down, bubbling to the surface on occasion only to fade away and be forgotten again.

On the other side of the glass, locked out of Tony’s workshop, the feeling was almost suffocating, and without thinking why, he covered the lower half of his face with one of his own hands, some small, ashamed part of him missing the mask ( _muzzle_ ) he’d worn as the Winter Soldier. Missed the illusion of safety that came from being voiceless.

The Avengers had returned from battle no worse for the wear, but _something_ had transpired in the field that resulted in Tony storming down into his workshop, Steve hot on his heels. The most Bucky could get as far as details went was in the form of a passing comment from Clint. 

“Mom and Dad are fighting again. Had to happen eventually, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

And now, on the outside looking in, he had that feeling all over again, that he had interfered with something by not staying dead like he was supposed to, upending things that had only been tenuously balanced to begin with. 

The two most important people in his world were shouting at each other, and part of him wanted to laugh at the height difference between the men as he watched it unfold before him, but he couldn’t, because his mouth was dry, his fingers curled into fists at his sides, while his heart hammered fitfully against his ribs.

Tony rocked up on his toes in order to get right in Steve’s face, and Steve loomed over Tony, curled down in order to not give an inch, but neither of them actually looked angry. Upset, certainly, but it wasn’t quite anger, it was that confusing _other_ thing. For a moment, for one crazy, heart stopping, gut wrenching moment, Bucky thought they were going to kiss each other.

It didn’t happen. What did happen was Tony threw his hands in the air, then crossed his arms over his chest, looking away. Away from Steve, away from Bucky ( _not that he knew he was there, watching_ ) head turned so he was facing the latest model of the Iron Man armor, still strung up and only partially completed. Beside him, Steve’s features softened. He placed one of his large hands on Tony’s shoulder, the other on the back of his own neck, as if chagrined. His hand lingered, maintaining physical contact with Tony for quite some time, and Bucky could only assume the calmer conversation that followed was them apologizing to each other.

Bucky wanted to leave, but couldn’t quite make his feet move, stuck in place, watching. Steve was still wearing his Captain America uniform, the cowl pushed back, his hair sticking up wildly, the shield slotted into place on his back. He was all tensed muscle and tightened jaw until Tony quirked a smile in his direction, and did some reaching out of his own, one of his clever hands grasping Steve’s arm. At this, the tension uncoiled, and Captain America transformed, becoming just Steve again, no longer a soldier standing at the ready.

It was odd, not being able to trust your own memories. If he was someone else, he could simply think back, puzzle out whether Steve had ever made any indication that he was interested in something other than the company of a woman, but Bucky only drew a blank when he attempted to do so. And what did it matter, anyway? As close as they’d been, as much as he’d loved and trusted Steve, he’d certainly gone out of his way to parade dames past his friend back in the day, back when those sorts of secrets seemed like the end of the world. Life had been so much simpler when _that_ was his biggest problem.

With great difficulty, Bucky made himself leave, concentrating on keeping his stride nice and even, attempting to project a calm he didn’t feel as he legged it back to the elevator. This definitely was not him running away, no matter how much it felt like that, this was him respecting the privacy of his friends. 

By the time he realized what he was doing, Bucky found himself outside, walking briskly past the coffee shop Steve had taken him to during his first official outing. It was a bit of a surprise; he tended not to head out on his own, unable to shake the conviction that there were undiscovered triggers buried deep within his psyche, just waiting to be exploited. At least if Steve or one of the other Avengers was with him if he has a relapse there was the chance they could incapacitate him before he hurt anyone.

Panic washed over him as he sidestepped into an alley, looking down at himself, almost expecting to find his old uniform in place. He could smell the leather, feel the ( _comforting_ ) weight of various weapons secured on his person, and had to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment. Deep breath. Count backwards from ten. Exhale.

There was a tinny voice calling his name, calming and familiar, and Bucky opened his eyes, found he was holding his phone. No uniform, no weapons. Just his phone, and the clothes he’d been wearing while lounging around the Tower. His arm was covered by the long sleeves of his shirt, thankfully, although the metal of his hand almost glowed in the darkness of the alley, seemingly picking up and reflecting back what little light there was.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he finally raised the phone to his ear. “Hi, JARVIS.”

“Master Barnes,” JARVIS answered, and slowly, the panic began to resolve itself, becoming something manageable. “Forgive the interruption. As per your standing request, since I was unable to reach you to confirm your well being, I have notified sir of your hasty departure from the Tower.”

Bucky bit back a groan, squeezing his eyes shut once more, his face feeling hot with embarrassment. He’d forgotten the arrangement he’d made with JARVIS. The order to alert someone if he ever left the tower without notifying one of the Avengers first, especially if in a state of stress, had been issued in the aftermath of a particularly vivid ( _memory_ ) nightmare. Tony was at the top of the list, naturally, which meant things were about to get awkward.

“Shit. What’s his E.T.A.?”

He’d hardly gotten the question out when he had his answer, turning in time to witness Iron Man dropping into the alley behind him, holding his dramatic landing pose for entirely longer than necessary.

“What’s up, buttercup?”

It was hard not to laugh at the way this sounded being delivered in the distorted Iron Man voice, so Bucky didn’t fight the urge, just hung his head, shoulders shaking. He heard the faceplate slide open, and took a moment to steel himself before managing to look Stark in the eyes. Tony was clearly concerned, but playing it cool, which Bucky appreciated.

“Sorry. False alarm. Everything is fine.”

“Riiiiggghhhtttt.”

Tony took a few steps closer, and Bucky felt his face grow warm again, although for entirely different reasons. There was something about Tony while he was in the armor that cut through Bucky’s defenses like a well placed blade, leaving desire bleeding out in its wake.

“Seriously, though, what’s up? Feeling stir crazy?”

Bucky opened his mouth, fully intending to agree, or provide some other excuse, but instead he heard himself asking, “Are you and Steve...” only to panic, and clamp his mouth shut before he could finish asking something he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to.

Tony did his best fish out of water impression, mouth opening and closing several times as he cocked his head to the side, ultimately staring at Bucky in ( _adorable_ ) confusion. There was a sudden cacophony of whirs, clicks, and strange metallic noises as the Iron Man armor retracted, allowing Tony to remove it without the assistance of his robots, until he was just a man standing in an alleyway, holding a briefcase.

“Is there a second half to that question, or is this some weird existential thing you’ve be struggling with?” he asked, running a hand through his hair in a failed attempt to straighten it out. “I can’t speak for Steve, but I’m pretty sure I exist. You could always come over here and help me make sure, though.”

Despite the nervous hammering of his heart, Bucky crossed the remaining distance between them, settled his metal hand over Tony’s chest for a moment before tapping against the arc reactor— _tap tap tap_ —ignoring the impulse to kiss Tony. “Seems real enough to me.”

“James,” and Tony’s eyes were far too full of worry and self doubt for Bucky’s liking. “You can’t kid a kidder. We either play Stinky New York Alleyway Confessions, or you let me take you out to dinner. Either way, we talk.”

As much as he was loathe to admit it, Bucky was happy to be called out on his ‘everything is okay’ bullshit. “Nowhere ritzy.” 

Tony made a little, “who, me?” gesture, indicating the almost threadbare t-shirt he was wearing, which was paired with his most comfortable pair of grease-stained jeans.

“Alright, it’s a date then.” 

Bucky wasn’t sure why the word ‘date’ made him so nervous all of a sudden. He’d had his tongue in Tony’s mouth, so dinner together shouldn’t be a big deal. It was, though, maybe because they’d never really gotten a chance to talk about the whole kissing situation after it’d happened. 

If TV had taught him anything, it was that the whole landscape of romantic relationships had changed rather dramatically since his day. Their little hallway makeout session probably hadn’t been a big deal to Tony at all, and considering what was running through his head right now the best bet was to just head back to the Tower.

“Great, we’re going right up the block,” Tony announced, interrupting his thoughts and also heading off in the direction of wherever it was they were going, so that Bucky had no time to retract his offer, needing to scamper after Tony if he didn’t want to be left behind.

As they walked, Tony rolled his shoulder as if working the kinks out, but he was so pensive that Bucky was hesitant to ask if he’d been hurt while out with the other Avengers. Normally, he would have expected himself to be treated to some running commentary; info about the places they were passing, strange things that had transpired to Tony in the area, and so on. That was how it’d played out every other time he’d left the Tower with Tony, and as a result the quiet seemed ominous.

They made their way into the back of a little Italian place, Bucky not surprised in the least when the owners greeted Tony in Italian, and ushered them back to a private booth. It was all warm earth tones, mood lighting, and mouthwatering aromas.

“They usually just bring me something awesome,” Tony remarked, fussing with the cutlery. “I can have them bring a menu, though, if you want.”

“No, that’s fine.”

“Okay, great,” Tony said, and he seemed to be fighting against something he wanted to say, his mouth working, and his eyes downcast.

It never failed to surprise him how dramatically Tony’s mood could change, how one moment he could be this energetic, magnetic, self assured, _spectacular_ individual, and in the next look almost alarmingly vulnerable, and entirely uncertain. 

Bucky couldn’t help but think of the puppy dog eyes Steve was so good at wielding when he wanted to get his way, and while Tony’s wounded look was similar, it was altogether different. Steve’s was always focused outward, usually wielded to show someone just how much they’d disappointed him, while Tony’s was focused entirely inward, as if he was, and always had been, the only possible source of disappointment in the entire world.

There he sat, mouth pressed into a thin line as he fiddled with his glass of water, and Bucky wondered what in the world it was Tony thought they were going to talk about.

“So. Adults, having a conversation.” Tony sighed, and finally looked him in the eyes, seemingly prepared for the worst. “Lay it on me.”

Bucky had become so engrossed with the change in Tony’s demeanor that instead of the careful words he’d been trying to piece together, ones that hopefully would have kept him from sounding pathetic, or criminally insecure, he blurted, “I ruined something between you and Steve by coming back, didn’t I?”

Tony looked so monumentally confused that it was hard not to laugh. His mouth hung open comically as he processed this question, until something clicked into place for him and he hunched over the table, hissing, “Wait, do you mean _between_ me and Steve?” he made a lewd hand gesture in an attempt to further clarify.

Bucky could feel the embarrassment now, had to fight the urge to bolt. “Nevermind, it’s stupid.”

“Hey, no,” Tony insisted, his hands darting out to grab Bucky’s, the picture of seriousness. “Not if it’s worrying you, it isn’t.”

Tony sat back as the waiter reappeared with bread, olive oil, and wine, doing his best to chat pleasantly with the man, his expression strained and his eyes desperate. When they were finally alone again, Tony slouched, running a hand over his face, looking far more exhausted than he had a few minutes earlier.

“Right, we don’t both get to be insecure,” he finally said, eyes focused on his glass of wine as if it was taking all of his willpower to resist drinking it. After a lengthy pause, he refocused on Bucky, a little self-deprecating smile playing at his mouth. “I call dibs, because I’m pretty sure I have way more practice than you.”

Bucky wanted to be infuriated, but was too confused by how his day was turning out to manage it. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair, wishing he’d brought a hairband with him so he could get it out of his face, and downed his own glass of wine in one gulp. This earned him an arched eyebrow from Tony.

“What do _you_ have to be insecure about?” Bucky asked, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice. “You’re…”

“In possession of a really shitty track record when it comes to alienating the people I care about?” Tony interrupted, pushing his glass of wine towards Bucky. It wasn’t until this glass was also drained that he seemed to relax. “I’m guessing the argument Steve and I had has something to do with you bolting tonight.”

“I wasn’t spying on you,” Bucky insisted, automatically regretting his choice of words. The palm of his flesh and blood hand was clammy, the fingers trembling against the surface of the table. Tony surprised him by covering it with his own, twining their fingers together. “I don’t know what you guys were arguing about. I just… got this feeling. Seeing you two together.”

Tony looked genuinely surprised, which was oddly comforting. “Okay, so you know the shitty track record I mentioned?” he asked, and the wounded look was back in his eyes. “I’m kinda hoping to break it. Apparently, that involves occasionally putting myself out there, which is tough, you know, because whenever I try, it seems to end badly for me.”

Bucky huffed a little noise of surprise, because wasn’t that just familiar? Seeing the way Tony was bracing himself for rejection made something click, and Bucky felt an odd sort of calm settle over him.

“Man, we’re both fucking idiots, aren’t we?” he asked, and was pleased when Tony let out a little bark of nervous laughter. “I don’t have any track record, really. Just a handful of experiences from before you were born, and those belonged to someone else.” 

It was obvious Tony wanted to interrupt, but was restraining himself, his mouth pressed into a thin line as his listened, his fingers squeezing Bucky’s as if in encouragement. “This, the way you make me feel, it’s different. Almost like it’s the only thing that’s _mine_ , if that makes any sense.”

“Total sense,” Tony answered, sounding amazed. As if he couldn’t restrain himself any more, he continued on with, “About halfway through the battle today, Clint went and ran his big mouth over the comms about us kissing, and I sort of flew into a building without meaning to.”

“Is that how you hurt your shoulder?” Tony smiled awkwardly, which was answer enough. “So, what, you caught flak for kissing me?”

Tony took his hand back in order to rub both of them over his face, groaning behind his hands. “Worse. We hurt his _feelings_ , James.” 

They shared a look, the sort of look only people who cared about Steve Rogers and knew what it was to let him down could share. It made the bottom drop out of Bucky’s stomach. 

“Yeah, exactly,” Tony muttered, ripping a hunk off of the bread they’d been ignoring, dipping it into the olive oil, then shoving it in his mouth. He looked like a demented chipmunk when he continued, one cheek fat with the bread he was still chewing. “I got the whole ‘I thought we were friends’ speech! I had to explain that it’d only just happened, and we hadn’t even had a chance to talk to _each other_ about it, let alone him, and Clint only knew because he’s a snooping pervert.”

“So there’s something _to_ talk about?” Bucky asked, deciding he might as well follow suit, and help himself to some chow. He glanced at Tony to gauge his reaction as he popped some bread in his mouth.

“There better be,” he grumbled, scowling almost adorably. “If you feel differently, you’re the one telling Steve it’s a done deal, because my ego can’t handle disappointing him any more than I already have.”

“This is your way of saying you’re not interested in Steve?”

Tony actually threw a chunk of bread at him, folding his arms across his chest like he was two steps away from having a full fledged tantrum. “I’m interested in _you_ , jackass. I know the tabloids might paint a different picture, but I’m pretty much a serial monogamist at heart, so if…”

Bucky didn’t let him finish, throwing the hunk of bread right back, managing to score a direct hit to Tony’s mouth. “You’re the best thing about still being alive, Antoshka,” he said before Tony could continue his rant, “and I’m crazy about you.”

“Great, then I hereby declare us in an exclusive, totally mature relationship,” Tony countered, slamming his fist down on the table like a gavel. 

He stood up and leaned over the table, and Bucky met him halfway, grabbing Tony by the nape of his neck in order to pull their mouths together. Whatever lingering doubts or tension he’d been carrying dissolved at the feeling of Tony’s fingers cradling his face, and the hot slide of his tongue. He tasted like olive oil, and fresh rosemary, and made a soft noise of disappointment when Bucky pulled away.

“Glad we cleared this up,” he said, pressing another kiss against Tony’s mouth before plopping back down in his seat.

“Pepper is going to be so proud of me!”

Tony started fumbling in his pockets, probably intending to whip out his phone and send Pepper a message, but was distracted when the waiter returned with several dishes of amazing smelling food, and the phone was all but forgotten.

“You should talk to Steve when we get back. He’s been feeling like a third wheel and not saying anything, because he was just happy to see you doing better.” Tony reached over to sneak a piece of hot sausage off of Bucky’s plate, even though there were plenty left in the serving dish. “I think he was actually relieved to hear there was a whole romantic angle, and it wasn’t just us friendship dumping him, or something.”

“I’ll straighten him out when we get back,” Bucky sighed. “Why didn’t he say anything sooner?”

“We’re all idiots, remember?” 

Tony looked incredibly happy as he said it, though, so all Bucky could do was grin right back, and raise his glass of water in a toast. 

“To mature relationships,” he proposed, and Tony’s glass clinked against his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this has taken forever to post. I've had half of it written for ages now, and no actual time to devote to finishing it. Thanks to all of the lovely people who have taken the time to provide such positive feedback, and appreciation of the series! I feel awful having made you wait so long for more. Hope you like it!


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